


Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart

by PrettyCalypso



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyCalypso/pseuds/PrettyCalypso
Summary: Based on this prompt: “Our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi I guess we’re spending the next two weeks together.” (except in this it's a long weekend, not two weeks)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JAinsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAinsel/gifts).



> To JAinsel, thank you for listening – reading – my rants about Shameless, my need for adventures, and meeting the love of my life. You're the Yang to my Gallavich Yin.
> 
> Also, this story kinda happened to me (well, the prompt did, but then I changed multiple details).
> 
> This fic is unBETA'd so I hope you won't find too many mistakes.

 

Ian let the baggage turn in circles in front of him on the carousel, scanning them vaguely, and only focusing his eyes on the ones that looked like his own. People around him picked up their stuff one by one before dispersing around the airport, and soon Ian was the only one left in front of the carousel and there was no more luggage coming in. He checked the little screen above his head for the fifth time. _Incoming flight from Chicago. Air Canada. 9.37pm._ There was no mistake, it was the right carousel, his suitcase was just... not here. He sighed loudly and looked around, finding the airline sign easily. The young woman behind the desk smiled too much and apologized one time too many while typing Ian's flight information into her computer.

 

“I'm afraid your luggage has been localized in... Stockholm.” she informed the redhead.

 

“Stockholm?” Ian repeated.

 

“Yes.”

 

“But I came from Chicago.”

 

“I know sir.”

 

“And we're in Vancouver.”

 

“Indeed we are.”

 

“So how the fuck did my suitcase end up in fucking Sweden???”

 

“The airline sincerely apologizes, sir, and we will retrieve your luggage as soon as possible.”

 

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Walk around naked?”

 

Ian took a steady breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“Just... Forget it. Send it back to Chicago when you find it, okay?”

 

The desk clerk nodded eagerly.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Ian thanked her, and turned around, readjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He only had one change of clothes in there, enough to last him a couple of days, maybe more if he wore his boxers inside out after wearing them once, but clearly not enough for a ten-day trip. He crossed the gate and was immediately met by somebody throwing themselves at him. Surprised by the sudden weight of the body in his arms, Ian almost fell down, catching himself by taking a step backward. He wrapped one hand around the woman's waist and smiled above the strands of blond hair shoved in his face.

 

“It's good to see you too Mandy.”

 

Mandy detached herself from him, a matching grin stretched on her lips, and bumped his shoulder with her fist a little too violently.

 

“What the fuck took you so long?” she demanded to know.

 

“My suitcase wasn't there.” Ian replied, rubbing his shoulder gently. “It's in Stockholm.”

 

“What? You want me to go rough them up? Scare the living shit out of them? I have my baton.”

 

“I'm good Mands.” Ian laughed.

 

“But what are you gonna wear?”

 

“I'll figure something out.”

 

“I'm sure I have some clothes leftover by old boyfriends or hook-ups if you want.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Ian smiled again at his friend, and they both made their way out of the airport and into the underground parking where Mandy had left her car. “So, have you planned any cool stuff we can do together while I'm here?” he asked as they both sat in the Jeep.

 

Mandy turned the engine on, and slowly exited the parking.

 

“There are a few clubs and bars I want to take you to.” she winked. “But this weekend we're going to a hotel resort and spa in the mountains. What are your thoughts on skiing?”

 

“I don't know.” Ian shrugged. “It's not like we ever had the money to go skiing before.”

 

“True. Very true.” Mandy nodded. “I've never been either, but this weekend is all expenses paid by my boss. I need to go there to check the place out to write a review, and I can bring up to three people.”

 

“That's pretty cool.”

 

“Perks of working for a travel agency.” Mandy beamed. “We have to try the trips before selling them to our rich as fuck costumers. Oh and Mickey is coming too. I'm tired of seeing him sitting on the couch all day long. You can borrow clothes from him too by the way.”

 

Ian nodded at all the information he had been given, and he tried to remember the last time he had seen Mickey Milkovich. Back when the Milkovich siblings lived in South Side, Ian acted like most kids in the neighborhood, avoiding any interaction, good or bad – but interactions with Mickey were mostly bad – with the violent thug that was Mickey. Even when Ian and Mandy had become friends and started hanging out, Ian still did his best to stay clear of Mickey's radar. And then there had been _'the incident'_ : the Milkovich house burning to the ground, Mandy and Mickey disappearing over night, and their father's body found among the ashes. Ian had only heard back from Mandy about a year later, and by then she was already settled into her new life in Canada with her brother. She swore the fire was an accident, and the cops dropped the case pretty quickly considering how many people hated Terry and wanted to see him dead, but Ian still suspected the siblings weren't that innocent – not that he blamed them for getting rid of their drunk, violent, nazi, homophobic prick of a father, the world was clearly better off without him.

 

***

 

“Hey asshole.” Mandy greeted her brother as Ian and her both entered the apartment and Mickey was, as predicted, sitting on the couch. “You need to lend Ian some clothes.”

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

“Cause the stupid airline lost his suitcase.”

 

“Not my problem.”

 

“Don't be a jackass Mick!”

 

Ian let the siblings bicker and took a look around. The apartment wasn't big, but it was way nicer and cleaner than the former Milkovich house. The front door opened directly onto a large living-room with a TV and a couch on one side and a messy desk on the other, next to which stood a too-full bookcase, and facing the entrance were two French windows opening onto a decent-sized balcony. On the left of the living-room, a swing door led to the kitchen, and on the right was a hallway with three doors – a bathroom and two bedrooms Ian guessed.

 

“Come on.” Mandy ordered, her attention back on Ian.

 

She snatched a handful of clothes from the pile forming on the armchair, and led them both to the hallway, opening the door on the left. Ian vaguely heard Mickey yell “Give me back my clothes bitch!” before Mandy closed the door of her bedroom. She dropped the pile of clothes on her unmade bed and walked to her dresser.

 

“Asshole thinks his laundry's gonna fold itself.” she muttered, trying to reach something behind the massive piece of furniture. “You can take whatever you want.” she added, jerking her head at said laundry. “It's clean from yesterday.”

 

Ian nodded, and looked through Mickey's mismatched pieces of clothing for a few seconds before his eyes went back to Mandy, still struggling with her dresser.

 

“You need some help?”

 

“Yeah.” she grunted. “I just... I keep a spare mattress behind this. You know, for guests and stuff.”

 

Ian joined her friend and pulled the dresser toward himself, freeing the poor mattress stuck behind it.

 

“Why don't you keep it under your bed?” he asked with a smile as he watched Mandy remove the object from its hiding place.

 

“I used to, but then Mickey found it and had the brilliant idea to put it on his bed so he could sleep on two mattresses. You know, more comfortable this way.”

 

“And he didn't find it behind the dresser?” Ian snickered.

 

“Oh, I'm pretty sure he knows it's here.” Mandy smirked. “But he's too lazy to take it out.”

 

“And it being a two-man job, I'm sure brings a whole new level of difficulty.” Ian added.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Ian laughed and replaced the dresser as Mandy placed the mattress on the floor and proceeded to drape it with clean sheets.

 

“So, what does Mickey do anyway?” Ian asked, curious as to what type of job the ex-thug could have landed.

 

“Nothing.” Mandy shook her head. “That's the point...”

 

“He doesn't have a job?”

 

“Nope. He used to work at this repair shop, but then he got fired for punching one of his coworkers in the face. Broke the poor fucker's nose.”

 

“Why did he do that?”

 

“The fuck if I know.” Mandy shrugged. “You wanna eat?”

 

***

 

After a night of talking and reminiscing with Mandy, Ian woke up alone in her bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and searched for his phone, finding it under the pair of jeans he was wearing the day before. He turned the device on to look at the time. 8am. _10am Chicago time_ his brain reminded him. He sat up and looked around the room, noticing a yellow post-it stuck to the full length mirror: “Gone to work. Back at 5. Xoxo, Mands ♥” Ian smiled at the little note his friend had left for him and decided to not take it off the mirror. He stood up, stretching his legs and arms to shake the sleep off his muscles, and searched through the pile of Mickey's clothes to find a pair of sweatpants – a little too short around the ankles. He grabbed his bag of toiletries from his backpack and stumbled his way to the bathroom across the hall. Once his morning routine was over, he left his toiletries bag in the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen, looking through the fridge and cabinets for a decent breakfast, and settling for a glass of orange juice and some fancy diet cereals he was sure were Mandy's. Mickey joined him in the kitchen barely half an hour later, wearing only his boxers – and Ian tried to not let his gaze linger on the other man's bare chest.

 

“What are you doing up so early?” Mickey grunted, obviously not expecting to share his living space with an almost stranger this early in the morning. “Aren't you supposed to be on vacation or some shit?”

 

“Jet lag.” Ian replied, eating his cereals slowly and looking through the window at the fog still covering the city.

 

“Don't give me that shit.” Mickey snickered, turning the coffee pot on. “You're coming from Chicago, not fucking New Zealand, there's barely any time difference.”

 

Ian chose to ignore the comment and focused back on his meal for a minute, before looking back at Mickey.

 

“Why are you here anyway?”

 

“In my fucking kitchen?” Mickey raised his eyebrows, defensive, as if Ian was trying to kick him out of his own home.

 

“No.” the redhead shook his head. “I mean why Canada? Why did you come here in the first place?”

 

“We just got in the car and drove.” Mickey answered, loosing his defensive stance to put a couple of Pop Tarts in the toaster. “We stopped in Toronto for a while, but then we decided to keep going west and, well, we couldn't really go further west without a boat, right?”

 

Ian nodded, smiling at the hint of a joke.

 

“Didn't you ask Mandy all that already?”

 

“Nope.” Ian shrugged. “I just knew she was living in Vancouver, and I didn't think about it more than that. But being actually here, you know, I was just wondering...”

 

His gaze traveled back to the window, and he saw Mickey leaving the kitchen from the corner of his eyes, the Pop Tarts on a dangerous equilibrium above the coffee mug in his hand. And when Ian walked out to go take a shower, passing by the living-room, he noticed Mickey sitting at the desk – which seemed way cleaner than last night – hunched over something, the pen in his hand working intensely.

 

“Oh, so you _don't_ spend the entire day on the couch.” Ian teased, and was rewarded by Mickey's middle finger pointed in his general direction.

 

The redhead didn't push further, resuming his walk to the bathroom, but he made a mental note to ask Mandy about this later.

 

***

 

“You're gonna spend the entire day watching TV?” Mickey barked around noon, when Ian had been sitting on the couch staring at the screen for the past couple of hours.

 

“I'm on vacation you said it yourself.” Ian reminded the other man. “Plus, you're one to talk, according to Mandy it's what you spend your days doing.”

 

“Bitch don't know shit.” Mickey mumbled.

 

And Ian observed him for a while. Mickey was still sitting at the desk, in what looked like intense work. The redhead had absolutely no idea what the other man was doing, but he was hit by a sudden realization.

 

“Mandy has no idea, doesn't she?”

 

“The fuck you're on about?” Mickey bit, not looking up.

 

“Well... I don't know exactly what you're doing here.” Ian explained. “But it seems like you're actually working on something. And Mandy is absolutely certain you spend your days in front of the TV. You didn't tell her, did you? You want her thinking that you're her good-for-nothing lazy-ass brother.”

 

Mickey didn't answer, keeping his eyes on whatever the fuck he was working on.

 

“So what you're doing?” Ian asked again, suddenly very curious.

 

“None of your fucking business.” Mickey snapped.

 

“So you don't mind if I tell Mandy then?”

 

“Do what the fuck you want man.”

 

And, just like that, the subject was dropped. The curiosity still nagged at Ian but he didn't bring it on again. And when Mandy came back home that night, ordering everyone to pack their bags for the weekend, Ian didn't say anything, he just noticed that Mickey was now sitting on the couch and that the mess was back on the desk. Then Mandy dragged Ian to this new hype club, and all thoughts of Mickey and his mysterious work left the redhead's brain.

 

***

 

“The fuck is she doing?” Mickey grunted for the eleventh time – Ian had counted – looking at his phone.

 

“I don't know.” Ian replied – again – looking at his own device.

 

They were both sitting on the shuttle bus that was supposed to take them to the resort in the mountains, and Mandy wasn't there. She had had to make a detour by her office that morning, claiming she just had to print a document, and that she would meet them on the bus, but she still had to show up. The driver closed the doors and turned the engine on.

 

“Wait! Our friend isn't here!” Ian exclaimed, standing up from his spot and leaning forward so that the man could hear him.

 

“Sorry pal.” the driver shook his head. “I have a schedule, I can't wait.”

 

“She'll probably meet us there.” Ian said as he sat back next to Mickey, and the other man shrugged, turning his head to look through the window.

 

They had been on the road for about twenty minutes – during which time they didn't share a word – when Ian's phone started to ring, earning him a lot of disapproving looks from the other passengers. He ignored them all and pressed the answer button.

 

“Mandy! The bus already left!” he shouted quietly at his friend.

 

“Are you in it?” she asked, sounding worried.

 

“Yes, Mickey and I are both in.” Ian informed her, feeling Mickey's eyes land on him at the mention of his name.

 

“Fuck!” Mandy exclaimed. “I'm sorry Ian, I can't make it. Something came up at work and I have to stay.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'll talk to my boss so you don't have to pay for this weekend though.”

 

“Mandy, what the fuck?”

 

“Sorry, gotta go!”

 

Ian sighed loudly as the call was cut short, and he put the phone back in his pocket, meeting Mickey's expecting glare.

 

“So?”

 

“She's not coming.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Work stuff.”

 

It was Mickey's turn to sigh, running a hand over his face.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Guess it's just you and me then.” Ian tried, a little smile on his lips.

 

“Great.” Mickey deadpanned. “I didn't even want to come in the first place, and now I'm stuck with an overeager orphan Annie.”

 

“And I came here to spend time with Mandy, and instead I have to settle for her asshole brother.” Ian shot back.

 

Mickey raised a middle finger in his direction and turned back to the window. Ian ignored him and put his earphones on. They spent the remaining half hour of the trip not talking to each other.

 

***

 

The hotel was a beautiful building in wood and stone, with the snowy mountains as a background. Mickey went straight for the reception, a large mahogany desk in the middle of a well lit hall forming a half circle and surrounded by wooden stairs on each side.

 

“When's the next shuttle for the city?” he barked at the receptionist, not even waiting for her polite greeting.

 

“There are three shuttles coming to the hotel on Thursdays and Fridays, and three shuttles leaving the hotel on Mondays and Tuesdays.” she answered with a smile.

 

“And the ones coming to the hotel, they do go back to the city, right?”

 

“They do.” the receptionist smiled again. “But you just got off the last one.”

 

Mickey took a deep breath and Ian saw him clench his fist against the wood, the crude letters inked on his knuckles stretching over the skin.

 

“You're telling me we're stuck here until Monday?” he asked lowly, his voice getting angrier with each syllable. “Aren't there fucking Ubers or cabs?”

 

“They never come all the way up here.” the receptionist replied, eyeing Mickey's fist fearfully. “The road is too narrow and there's too much snow, only our specially equipped shuttles make the trip.”

 

Mickey watched the poor woman for a beat, silent and menacing, and Ian was pretty sure the other man was thinking of a way to kill her without leaving too many witnesses. The redhead took a step forward and cut in the stretching silence.

 

“We have a reservation.” he declared cheerfully. “Probably under the name Milkovich, Mandy. Unfortunately she couldn't make it, so it's just us.”

 

“Yes.” the receptionist nodded, her eyes focusing on her computer, but looking up nervously every once in a while to meet Mickey's angry glare fixed on her. “You will be in one bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, and two single beds.”

 

Her voice dropped a little toward the end of her sentence, formulating it as a question, to which Ian nodded.

 

“Yes. Two single beds please.”

 

“You booked a discovery weekend.” she added, gaining a little of her confidence back. “Which means you will have full access to the spa and our gourmet restaurant, as well as two ski lessons per person. You can choose to get them both in one day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, or one tomorrow on Saturday, and the other on Sunday. It's your choice.”

 

She smiled again, and gave them a key card each, informing them that the object opened the door to the spa as well as their room, and had to be presented at the beginning of each of their ski lessons. She then gave them a pamphlet of all the other activities that could be found on site, and a menu for the restaurant, and wished them a pleasant stay, looking more than happy to see Mickey go.

 

***

 

“This isn't bad.” Ian said with a smile as he dropped his bag on one of the beds.

 

The room was pretty, with clean linens and fluffy towels, and a large French window opened onto a small balcony with a gorgeous view of the mountains.

 

“Oh fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey scoffed, searching through his pockets to find a packet of cigarettes and stepping onto the balcony before lighting one.

 

“What have I ever done to you?” Ian finally snapped, following the other man outside.

 

“Oh let me see.” Mickey sneered, exhaling some smoke. “You're coming into my fucking house – and, by the way, Mandy didn't even consulted me before inviting you. You're wearing my fucking clothes even though I disagree to it. You're snooping into my fucking business, asking unwelcome questions and judging the way I live my life. And now I'm stuck in this fucking hotel with you, on a trip I didn't even want to come to in the first place!”

 

“And this is all my fault somehow?” Ian shouted back. “I didn't even know you still lived with Mandy when she invited me over, I didn't ask for the fucking airline to send my suitcase to Europe, and I was supposed to come to this hotel with Mandy, not you! So yeah, maybe I asked a few questions about what you're doing with your life, but when you told me to fuck off I did! And I didn't even tell Mandy about it! So fuck you Mickey! I'm going to enjoy this weekend on my own because I've never been skiing or gone to a spa before! Feel free to stay unhappy and moody in your corner!”

 

Ian didn't even wait for Mickey to answer by another insult or a waving middle finger as he stormed back into the room, shutting the sliding door forcefully behind him. He took his key card and grabbed his coat and scarf before heading out of the room. He needed some fresh air.

 

***

 

The night was falling slowly, wrapping the mountains in its dark cloak. The moon was in its first quarter, and a couple of stars were starting to pop up. Ian walked passed the tourists enjoying their cigarettes before hitting the bar, and those coming back down from their day of skiing or snowboarding. He walked away from the lights of the hotel and found a small path leading up to a secluded forest. The sky was almost fully black by now, and it was starting to get impossible to see more than three feet ahead. Ian could only feel his boots sinking in the snow. He still managed to walk for another five minutes, before he decided to come back in fear of getting lost in the cold night without never being able to find the hotel again.

 

He bought a sandwich at the snack bar and ate it sitting on a bench next to a loud German family. He then came back halfheartedly to the room, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. He pushed the door slowly and found the room completely dark, spotting Mickey's shape under the covers in his bed, probably already sleeping – or pretending to. Ian took his clothes off quietly, only keeping his last remaining clean boxers on and the black sleeveless T-shirt he had borrowed from Mickey's closet – against the brunet's wishes, as it had been made very clear.

 

***

 

When he woke up the next day, Mickey had already left the room. So Ian took his time under a long and hot shower, he got dressed – while coming to the realization that he was only wearing Mickey's clothes at this point – and headed downstairs to enjoy a nice continental breakfast in the restaurant. He then went to take his first ski lesson – with a very hot teacher he might add – and spent most of his afternoon at the spa. He only came back to the room around four, finding it empty once again – although this time he could hear the running shower so he assumed Mickey was just in the bathroom. Ian sat heavily on his bed, and let himself fall backwards, his head landing softly on the plushy pillow. His side of the room was rather tidy compared to Mickey's mess on both his bed and the lonely desk next to the window. One of his boots was near the entrance door, and the other was halfway under his bed, his small suitcase was wide open and almost empty, with piles of clothes on the bed, above the dresser and on the desk, his coat was on the chair, and his scarf hanging from the bed, dangerously close to the floor, there were several pens on the desk, and one near the foot of the bed, and pieces of paper flying loose from the desk to the dresser, as well as a thick notebook opened on the unmade bed, a packet of cigarettes on the dresser, and single cigarettes all over the place. Ian listened for the shower again, noticing it still ran strongly, before he slid off his bed and caught the piece of paper that was the closest to him. It was filled from top to bottom with tiny spidery handwriting. Ian had to squint his eyes a little to be able to decipher it, but when he understood what he was reading he couldn't stop, he went from one page to the other, swallowing word after word, his mouth dropping a little more with each sentence, and his eyes going wide.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey's voice suddenly asked angrily.

 

Ian looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and he couldn't even be bothered to be scared by Mickey's menacing stand.

 

“This is... porn.” the redhead enunciate with a smirk. “You're writing porn!”

 

“It's not fucking porn.” Mickey growled, snatching the pieces of paper from Ian's hands.

 

The redhead stayed on the floor, looking at Mickey scramble around the room, gathering the overwhelming evidence of his little pastime. He couldn't shake the smile off his face, Mickey Milkovich was writing fucking porn!

 

“It's not porn.” Mickey repeated, mumbling under his breath. “It's an erotic novel.”

 

“It's fucking porn.” Ian insisted, holding his laughter in.

 

And then another realization hit him. The grin erased itself from his face and he stood up too fast.

 

“Wait... This is... This is not straight porn... This is gay, guy on guy porn!”

 

Mickey didn't reply, he kept reassembling his work, but a faint blush crept on his face.

 

“Oh shit!” Ian exclaimed. “Mickey Milkovich is fucking gay!”

 

Mickey didn't confirm nor deny the information, and Ian's mouth and eyes opened even wider than when he was reading unexpected porn.

 

“Does Mandy know?” he asked, a little softer.

 

“Yeah, of course she fucking knows.” Mickey scoffed, finally looking back at the redhead.

 

“But she doesn't know you write porn, right?”

 

“Erotic writing.” Mickey corrected again.

 

“Yeah, okay, erotic writing, whatever.”

 

Mickey shook his head, telling Ian that no, indeed, Mandy wasn't aware of that fact, and a heavy silence settled between them. That was when the redhead noticed that Mickey was half naked, with only a towel hanging from his hips, and for the second time since he arrived in Canada, Ian stared. He had noticed before that Mickey wasn't bad looking, but as a kid he was mostly just afraid of him. Now though, now he thought about all these stuff he had just read, and how amazing it would be to do them to Mickey.

 

“Stop looking at me like that.” the brunet ordered.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you want me to suck your dick.” Mickey explained. “Cause I won't do it. You either want it because you just found out I'm the other only gay guy available in this shitty place, or because you're turned on by my writing, so you can forget it.”

 

***

 

“Is that what you do then? All day long at your desk?”

 

After Ian had taken a short cold shower, he had suggested going down at the restaurant to share a meal, promising to not try to get in Mickey's pants, and the other man had agreed only after making sure Ian would pay – as an apology for snooping into Mickey's belongings and reading things he wasn't allowed to.

 

“Yep.” the black-haired man nodded, swallowing a mouthful of baked potatoes with herbs and heavy cream. “I'm a published writer.”

 

“Seriously?” Ian smiled, amazed.

 

“I've been writing for years, but I've only started making a living out of it recently.” Mickey explained. “That's when I quit my job.”

 

“So you didn't get fired for punching that guy?”

 

“Oh I did punch him. But only after I quit, I'm not stupid. He was a fucking asshole, making homophobic jokes all day long. He had it coming.”

 

Ian laughed at the bluntness of Mickey's words, recognizing without a doubt the South Side mentally. Punching before asking, and resolving all your conflicts with violence. He drank some water and came back to a subject that mattered to him dearly.

 

“So Mandy... She thinks you're a lazy-ass unemployed jerk who spends his days on the couch watching TV. Why didn't you tell her?”

 

Mickey finished his plate and took a deep breath.

 

“It's one thing to know and accept that your brother's gay, but it's a whole other thing to accept that your brother writes gay erotic novels for a living.”

 

“You're ashamed of it.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

Ian kept a steady face as he looked at Mickey straight in the eyes.

 

“You are.” the redhead stated. “I don't blame you, I wasn't especially proud of myself when I was shaking my ass for a bunch of geriatric pervs a couple of years back, but I didn't enjoy what I was doing. You obviously are. And I'm sure Mandy would be totally okay with it. She would probably laugh at first, but ultimately she would accept it.”

 

Mickey huffed a small laugh.

 

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

 

“You're very welcome.” Ian grinned.

 

The redhead went back to his food, but he could still feel Mickey's eyes on him. It lasted a long minute before Mickey finally said what was on his mind.

 

“So you were a dancer, huh?”

 

***

 

Ian woke up too early on Sunday morning, and spent a long time out in the balcony watching the sun rise above the mountains, and the few early birds already out on the snow to catch the good powder of the morning. He had stolen a cigarette from Mickey and was smoking it slowly, enjoying the warmth in his lung – not that he minded the cold, he had grown up in Chicago after all. He took a last drag of his cigarette, and crushed the butt on the wooden railing, before turning to open the sliding door. Mickey was still asleep, and Ian did the creepy thing by staring at the other man for a little too long. Mickey looked so peaceful, the rise and fall in his chest matching his steady breathing. The more time Ian was spending watching him, the more gorgeous he found him, which was slightly inconvenient considering Mickey had made it very clear he wasn't interested in the redhead that way – or not interested at all for that matter. Ian was relentless though, and he had never been one to give up easily. He waited for 9am to come around, before he took a step closer to the bed, and shook Mickey's shoulder lightly. Mickey batted his hand away in a fast defensive stance, and Ian took a step back, raising both his hands in surrender, letting the other man some time to realize he was not in any danger.

 

“Fuck...” Mickey groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What are you waking me for?”

 

“I'm going for my second ski lesson.” the redhead informed him. “I thought maybe you wanted to come with me.”

 

“Why the fuck would I want to go skiing?” Mickey mumbled, falling on his back and closing his eyes again.

 

“Because you can.” Ian smiled. “And because Mandy paid for it.”

 

“She didn't pay for it, her boss did.” Mickey rightly argued. “And no, I don't want to go fucking skiing. Now let me sleep, you animal.”

 

Ian laughed and let Mickey go back in the arms of Morpheus while he got ready for his second ski lesson. He wouldn't say he absolutely loved the activity, but it was nice to try it, and at long as there were free he was always ready to try new things.

 

***

 

Mickey was finally up when Ian came back to the room, and the black-haired man said he was going downstairs to enjoy the brunch buffet in the restaurant – which Ian took as an invitation to tag along of course.

 

“Have you ever based a character on yourself?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Cause it'd be boring.”

 

Ian hadn't stopped asking questions during lunch, and now that they were back in the room, his annoying interrogation continued.

 

“You could base a character on me.” he suggested after a while, as Mickey took his notebook and pen out.

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

“Because I'm hot.” the redhead stated cockily.

 

“Yeah right.” Mickey shook his head, with a hint of a smile not quite hidden.

 

“You don't think I'm hot?”

 

“I never said that.”

 

Ian grinned widely, a proud look on his face.

 

“Now shut up and let me write.” Mickey ordered.

 

He had explained during lunch that he preferred writing by hand – even if he had to copy all of it down on the computer afterward – he felt more connected to his story when his pen was scribbling on paper. It was an old habit from when he was growing up and they had only one laptop for the entire family – something that Ian understood very well – and the idea of having Mickey's writing stored on it was entirely out of the question.

 

“It could make an interesting story.” Ian insisted. “The writer and his muse. His very hot muse... They would fight against everything and everyone and end up riding off in the sunset. With a lot of sex in between.”

 

“And that's why I'm the writer.” Mickey teased, not looking up from his notebook.

 

Ian rolled his eyes and lay on his back on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head. No matter what Mickey said, Ian liked his story, and he would read it if it was written. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, listening to Mickey's pen travel across the paper.

 

“Did I mention they'd have a lot of sex?”

 

“Huh huh...” Mickey mumbled, his pen still working loudly.

 

“The writer would refuse at first.” Ian kept narrating. “But the hot muse would wore him down slowly. He would convince him to go on dates without the writer suspecting a thing. They would have a lot of fun, they would get closer and closer without realizing it. And one night after a third or fourth date, the writer would break...”

 

Ian stayed silent for a few seconds, listening to Mickey's pen. The other man was still writing, but his pace seemed lower, he was definitely listening to the redhead. Ian smiled and continued his story.

 

“The hot muse would kiss him, and the writer wouldn't pull away, he would kiss him back. They would take their clothes off before even reaching the bedroom. The writer would admire his muse's beautiful body under another light, their relationship being anything but professional at this point. The writer would get on his knees... No wait, this isn't right. The hot muse would get on his knees. Yeah, that's better...”

 

Ian breathed slowly. He was getting turned on by his own story. Without even looking up, he noticed that Mickey wasn't writing anymore. Ian wanted to finish teasing Mickey without getting too excited himself but he wasn't sure that was possible anymore. So he took another deep breath and spoke again.

 

“The writer would be painfully hard, and the muse would take him in his mouth...”

 

Ian barely had time to finish his sentence that Mickey's lips were crashing on his. The redhead sat up without breaking their kiss, taking Mickey with him, allowing the brunet to sit on his lap. Ian detached their lips and smirked.

 

“I thought you said it wouldn't happen.”

 

“Shut up.” Mickey warned him, kissing him again. “Just shut up.” he mumbled against Ian's lips.

 

He stood up, getting rid of his clothes quickly – the redhead imitating him without hesitation – and came back on top of Ian. They kissed hungrily for some more time before the redhead turned them over. Now hovering Mickey, he trailed kisses along his chest and his lower stomach before he kissed the skin right above his cock. Mickey started moaning Ian’s name under his breath. Ian smiled and not a second later his lips were closing around the head of Mickey's erection. The brunet let out a long groan. He reached Ian's hair with his hands and massaged his skull gently. Ian sucked on the head of his dick and let his tongue slide over the slit. Mickey moaned again and Ian pulled off. The redhead smiled and came back up to kiss the other man again, letting a hand traveled between his ass cheeks.

 

“You have anything?” he asked, really hoping the answer would be yes. “I only have a condom in my wallet.”

 

“I have a travel size packet of lube in mine.” Mickey nodded, kissing the side of Ian's mouth.

 

Ian raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any question, he just enjoyed the way they completed each other in necessary sex supplies. Mickey reached for his wallet on the desk, while Ian fished his out of his pants on the floor. Once they were back on the bed, the redhead grabbed both condom and lube, and did a fast but good work at opening Mickey up. And finally, after spending roughly the past twenty-four hours being horny and longing for Mickey, he lined up with the other man’s hole, and, without hesitation, he slammed in. Mickey’s back arched off the mattress and a strangled moan escaped his throat, his hands twisting in the sheets. Ian grinned and pulled out before slamming back in. The same strangled noise escaped Mickey’s lips and he clenched, making Ian moan with him. Ian started pounding relentlessly into Mickey, while the man arched and moaned with all he had as he tried to hold on to Ian’s back and neck. He gripped Ian’s hair and pulled him against his shoulder. Ian’s pace was unforgiving, and when he finally found Mickey’s prostate, Mickey cried out his name loudly.

 

“Fuuuuck, Ian!”

 

Ian kept the angle and picked up his pace, going deeper and deeper.

 

“Fuck, Mickey, fuck!” he groaned.

 

The headboard was hitting the wall regularly and the bed springs were squeaking underneath them. But they didn’t even hear it over their own noises and their skin slapping together. Then Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s cock and started pumping it in rhythm with his thrusts, at least as much as he could manage. Mickey was writhing and moaning, and when he clenched around Ian, his mouth fell open in a loud groan, and he came all over Ian’s hand and his own chest. The redhead pounded into him a couple more times before he came too, pressing further into Mickey, almost lifting Mickey’s back completely off the bed.

 

“Shiiiit” Ian breathed before collapsing onto Mickey.

 

“Yeah...” the black-haired man agreed, his voice low and broken.

 

Ian pulled out and took the condom off before throwing it somewhere at the foot of the bed, and he rolled over, lying next to Mickey.

 

“We should have done that from the beginning.” Ian declared, smiling like a mad man.

 

“You wish.” Mickey joked, slapping him gently on the chest with the back of his hand.

 

They both basked in their afterglow for a while, crammed on Ian's single bed, side by side, their naked bodies touching in every single possible point of connection. And suddenly Ian stood up, reaching for the first pair of boxers he could find on the ground – both were Mickey's anyway – and getting dressed in a hurry.

 

“Where you're going?” Mickey grunted, looking more than unhappy to be abandoned in that moment.

 

“Don't move, I'll be back in a sec.” the redhead promised, heading out of the room with his key card and some money in his pocket.

 

And he did his best to not be too long, running across the hallways of the hotel, and coming back to the room a good ten minutes later, brandishing proudly a full box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

 

“Where did you find these?” Mickey wondered, still laying naked on the bed.

 

“Is it really important?” Ian smirked before locking the door and joining the other man on the bed.

 

***

 

Ian woke up with the sunset, after several rounds of sex and a much-needed nap. He was alone in bed, but he could see Mickey's silhouette on the balcony. He grabbed his clothes on the floor and joined the other man outside. Mickey was smoking, leaning on the railing, wrapped in Ian's slightly oversized sweater.

 

“You're wearing my clothes now?” the redhead teased.

 

“Only because you wear mine.” Mickey replied with the same tone.

 

Ian smiled and stole the cigarette from Mickey's fingers, bringing it to his lips. They smoked side by side in silence for some time, passing the cigarette back and forth, looking at the sun going down behind the mountains. It was oddly romantic.

 

“My dad found my writing.” Mickey said after a while. “A few months before we left, he found one of my stories in my room, and he beat the shit out of me. I stopped writing for weeks after that.”

 

Ian didn't say anything, he just nodded, letting Mickey tell his story. The black-haired man lit another cigarette and took a long drag. He was looking far away at the last remaining people on the trail, not meeting Ian's eyes as he recalled memories of his father.

 

“And then one night, he was drunk and I saw him going into Mandy's room, and I understood what he was doing. So I hit him in the back with a chair. He passed out, but I knew he was going to wake up, so I convinced Mandy to go, to just leave everything, leave this house and never come back. She wasn't hard to persuade. I dragged him to the couch, surrounded by his bottles of vodka, whiskey and beer so he would think he was just too drunk and blacked out, and we left, never looked back.”

 

The corner of Mickey's mouth lifted in the beginning of a smile and his eyes shifted to Ian.

 

“So the fire wasn't your fault?” the redhead couldn't help himself but ask.

 

Mickey sneered and looked back up at the mountains.

 

“I might have left several lit cigarettes in very flammable places when Mandy was packing the car.” he confessed, and Ian's eyes widened.

 

“So you did burn the house down?”

 

“I never said that.” Mickey smirked, making Ian laugh.

 

“Too bad.” the redhead shook his head. “I always found the idea of Mandy and you killing your father to be quite romantic, in a dark and twisted way.”

 

“You're messed up Gallagher.”

 

***

 

Mandy threw herself in Ian's arms for the second time in barely a week. As soon as he was off the shuttle, she was wrapping her arms around his chest.

 

“I'm so sorry I abandoned you!” she exclaimed as the redhead detached himself from the hug to be able to breathe. “I hope you still had fun.”

 

“I did.” Ian smiled. “It was a nice hotel, and skiing was... interesting. I had a great time.”

 

“Still, I'm sorry.” Mandy insisted.

 

“What about me bitch?” Mickey grunted. “You forced me to go and you abandoned me too!”

 

“You needed the fresh air Mick.” Mandy smirked, and Ian sent a pointed glare in Mickey's direction – _'it's time to tell her the fucking truth'_ – but Mickey looked away, avoiding his gaze.

 

The redhead rolled his eyes and kissed the top of Mandy's hair.

 

“I miss you though.” he confessed – which was partly true, even if he knew that he would have never hooked up with Mickey if Mandy had been there, and therefore miss the best sex of his life, _several times._

 

“I know you did.” Mandy smiled brightly. “I'm irreplaceable.”

 

***

 

The room was pitched black, and Ian had been listening to Mandy's light snoring for about half an hour. He was sure she was asleep by now. He grabbed his phone on the bedside table and checked the time. Almost 3am. He stood up slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, and walked out of his best friend's room to knock lightly on her brother's door. Mickey opened it almost immediately – clearly he wasn't sleeping either.

 

“The fuck you want?” he whispered probably not as aggressively as he wished.

 

“Nothing.” Ian smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

 

Mickey looked the redhead up and down for a second, checking behind him that Mandy's door was closed, and he smiled knowingly.

 

“Come here.” he murmured, grabbing Ian by the collar of his T-shirt and pressing their lips together.

 

***

 

For the four nights and four days remaining of Ian's visit, the scenario was pretty similar: Ian spent the day with Mandy, barely acknowledging Mickey, and once it was dark out and Mandy was asleep, Ian sneaked in Mickey's bedroom, only going back to his mattress on Mandy's floor when the sun started to rise. They never properly decided to hide their relationship from Mandy, they never even discuss it, it just came naturally that this thing happening between them should stay between them and only them. It worked out well, especially because Mandy seemed pretty oblivious and noticed absolutely nothing, but too soon Ian's trip was coming to an end and he realized he was going to have to go back to Chicago, and the idea of leaving Mickey behind suddenly appeared surprisingly impossible to accept.

 

“I'll come back.” Ian murmured, tracing patterns on Mickey's naked chest with his finger. “And you can visit me too.”

 

Mickey nodded silently. It was their last night together and he had not said more than two words. For some reason beyond Ian's comprehension, the other man looked utterly bored and happy to get this little fling over with. The redhead sat up against the headboard and stared at Mickey.

 

“Do you even want us to keep in touch? To keep... this, _us_ going?”

 

Mickey finally looked up at Ian, a weird expression on his face, like he couldn't understand what the redhead was saying. He silently climbed off the bed and kneeled on the floor, dragging a plastic box from under the mattress. He searched through it for a minute before extracting a handful of paper out of it.

 

“Read.” he ordered, handing Ian the material.

 

It was a piece of his erotic writing – _gay porn_ – nothing new under the sun.

 

“I don't get it.” Ian shook his head, looking up from the story.

 

“Read more carefully.” Mickey repeated. “Don't you notice anything?”

 

Ian's eyes traveled back to the piece of paper. It was not as well written as what he had read in the hotel, there were a lot of words crossed-out, and the character had no name, just a physical description. _Wait..._

 

“This is... me.” Ian mumbled. “You wrote about me?”

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, blushing slightly. “I wrote this one back in the days, when I was still living in Chicago and you were always around with Mandy. I wrote a few stories with you as a main character.”

 

Ian opened his mouth but nothing came out of it. Mickey had been writing about him when they were kids? Mickey had noticed him enough to describe him so carefully in writing?

 

“Did you... Did you have a crush on me or something?”

 

“Or something.” Mickey blushed harder.

 

He looked away from Ian and grabbed his current notebook on the bedside table.

 

“I stopped writing about you when we left Chicago, there was no point anymore...” he confessed. “But I did start writing this when you arrived last week.”

 

He handed Ian the notebook, and the redhead opened it to read pages upon pages about red hair, green eyes, and freckles, and description of his body in frightening details, and...

 

“The writer and his muse.” Ian whispered, mouth agape with incredulity. “You did actually wrote that.”

 

“I had the idea before you even thought of it.” Mickey stated, smiling proudly. “Or more like a fantasy...”

 

His voice dropped a little toward the end of the sentence, and he snatched the notebook and the pieces of paper out of Ian's hand to place them back where he had found them. When he came back on the bed, Ian framed his face with his hands and kissed him softly. He felt Mickey melt under his touch.

 

“I guess I could visit.” Mickey mumbled between their lips.

 

“Is that a promise?” Ian smiled.

 

Mickey's only answer was to kiss him harder.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comments. And you can also come talk and share with me on my [tumblr](http://ilostmylifeonline.tumblr.com/), it's always appreciated. :)


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